


Lions and wolves

by superpol



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superpol/pseuds/superpol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a lioness. Lions and wolves do not mingle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lions and wolves

**Author's Note:**

> written for the asoiaf kinkmeme @ livejournal

She glows in the afternoon sun, her skin as golden as her hair. Her hips ondulate slowly as she licks her red lips. Ned has always been a man of ice and snow, of green forests covered in white, of duty and honor. However, she is quite the opposite. She is the summer storm, she is passion and anger, she is rotten beauty.  
  
She is a lioness. Lions and wolves do not mingle.  
  
And yet.  
  
Cersei gasps, her eyes never leaving his. She is wet where Ned's fingers play between her legs. She smells of roses and a little bit of sweat, nothing like the poisonous reek of King's Landing. Her back arches of the stone wall, her hand grabbing his hair like an anchor.  
  
"Stark," she sighs. One of her legs bring Ned as closer as he will let himself be, her skirts riding up her waist.  
  
She looks forbidden. She _is_ forbidden and still Ned can't stop himself. He could say he doesn't want her, but he would be lying. That makes him feel weak, exposed. Oh, and does he hate her for it.  
  
Ned's fingers move lazily and his thumb caress her where she asks. Cersei closes her eyes and throws her head back, displaying his pale neck. Ned wants to bite it, flaw it. He wants to mark her, to make her pay. Yet he denies himself.  
  
Cersei Lannister is a rose with deadly thorns.  
  
Instead of his lips, he uses his free hand. He is not thinking when his fingers close around her neck, pressing softly. Her eyes snap open, a desperate look upon them, and she moans.  
  
She searches his face. She is unsure. It's not surprising. She doesn't trust him. She doesn't trust anybody. Whatever she is looking for however, she seems to find it.  
  
"Stark," she pants then, "harder."  
  
He obeys. He fucks her harder. He presses harder. She doesn't look away, even when Ned's hand barely lets her breathe. Cersei grabs his wrist, but she won't stop him. Not even when her choked moans are almost silent.  
  
"Is this what you want?" he asks in her ear. Her body is taut, accepting everything he has to give. For a second, the lioness looks like a helpless sheep. "Do you like this?"  
  
( _Aren't you a broken one, Cersei_ )  
  
She claws at his back, her full lips shaped in a mute scream. Ned feels her tighten and he releases her. She reaches the peak with a sob, clinging to him with all the strengh she has left.  
  
He hears her breathe, even cough a couple of times. Just for a moment, she yields and her hands are gentle on his shoulders. Ned lets himself imagine they are not who they're supposed to be. He enterntains the thought.  
  
Suddenly, she goes for his breeches and the illusion is broken.  
  
"No," he says.  
  
She doesn't seem surprised.  
  
"Of course," Cersei mocks him, "your _honor_."  
  
She fixes her dress before she goes. Ned finds himself alone in the afternoon silence and he knows he will regret it later.  
  
Afterall, lions and wolves do not mingle.


End file.
